


Rug Burn!

by Hello_Spikey



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-14
Updated: 2014-07-14
Packaged: 2019-10-23 22:13:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17692082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hello_Spikey/pseuds/Hello_Spikey
Summary: Spike's relationship with the God-King is hell on his knees.





	Rug Burn!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [snogged](https://archiveofourown.org/users/snogged/gifts).



The denim of Spike’s jeans adhered in oval patches just below his knees. He stopped and, with a grimace, tugged the fabric free.  
  
Angel, scenting blood, gave him a significant look.  
  
“Leave off, you tosser.”  
  
“Seems like the third time this week.”  
  
“Fourth. Wanker. I’m in a mind to get knee pads, but it would ruin the moment. Nothing more romantic than, ‘sorry darling, let me get my sporting equipment.’” He straightened and frowned. “Think Illyria would go in for that? Roleplaying? I could be the goalie, see, and she could—“  
  
“Enough!” Angel put his hands over his ears. “I’m not listening.”  
  
Spike chuckled and swaggered out of the office.  
  
In the corridor outside he stopped to pull the jean fabric free from the sticky wound on his knee again. He sighed. Something was really going to have to change.  
  
Illyria approached him as she usually did, abruptly, out of nowhere, and looking about as turned on as a rock. “I require pleasure.”  
  
She grabbed him in a preternaturally strong grip and walked unhurriedly toward the bed. “Oh, Blue, you and your insistence on protracted foreplay.”  
  
As she pulled him down, he resisted, pushing back. She frowned in confusion, tilting her head in that bird-like way. “You hesitate,” she said, like he wasn’t fighting with all his strength.  
  
Spike sighed. She let go of him and he took a step back. “Look, would it kill you to be on top?”  
  
An eyebrow raise joined the head-tilt. “Yeah, let’s just take all the romance out of it and explain. Pet, Goddess… there happens to be more than one position to having sex. I’m wearing out the tops of my knees, here, and anyway, it’s not like this is just my benefit I’m thinking of. Well, it mostly is, but you’re missing out on the experience of being on top. You see what I mean? So how about I just lie down here on my back on the nice bed…”  
  
A hard blue arm blocked his path. “I am a god-king of the primoridum. I do not pleasure YOU. You pleasure me.”  
  
“It’s not like that, it’s like… pleasuring yourself. The enjoyment of control.” The head-tilt relaxed fraction. Spike stepped into her arms and lowered his voice. “And we both know how much you like being in control. Hm?” He ran his hands up her sides. “I’ve shown you the ropes, as it were, so how about it? Throw me down and ravish me.”  
  
“OOF!” All the air left him as he hit the bed hard with his back. He gasped enough breath to say, “I’ll take that as a yes,” before Illyria climbed on him.  
  
He had, indeed, shown her the ropes of her current “shell” and its pleasures. She took control with shocking ease. Or maybe that was the cowgirl, remnant in her, settling into the saddle like she’d been at it forever.  
  
Spike laughed. This was his best idea, ever.  
  
***  
  
Spike stopped, with a grimace, and tried to pull the fabric of his shirt off of his sticky, wounded back. The light cotton felt like burlap, adhering in oval patches where the skin had broken.  
  
He looked down at the chair at the conference table and thought better of it. He started to lean against the wall, but stopped himself. He walked back to the chair and leaned on it, his forearms crossed on the back.  
  
Angel stared at him. “What the hell happened to you?”  
  
Spike sighed. “Next time I have a brilliant idea, Peaches? Stop me.”  
  
THE END


End file.
